


Flowers

by hellborn



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Flowers, M/M, graveyard, implied suicide, valtober, virtuevalentine (oct. prompt list)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 09:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21072560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellborn/pseuds/hellborn
Summary: hey.. it’s been.. awhile haha.. sorryit’s my senior year and shit has been crazy, i’m taking college classes while working on the days I don’t have class and i have not had the time to write. i really wanted to do something so when i saw virtuevalentine’s October prompts i was like: a sign from god so I got back on the horse (or at least tried) bear with me plz, I have so many unfinished draftsIly <33





	Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [virtuevalentine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuevalentine/gifts).

> hey.. it’s been.. awhile haha.. sorry  
it’s my senior year and shit has been crazy, i’m taking college classes while working on the days I don’t have class and i have not had the time to write. i really wanted to do something so when i saw virtuevalentine’s October prompts i was like: a sign from god so I got back on the horse (or at least tried) bear with me plz, I have so many unfinished drafts 
> 
> Ily <33

The next morning, he goes to pick flowers. Sometimes, in years past, he would purchase them from a vendor or order extravagant bouquets from the florist, but eventually, as many times as he visited, the expense became too great and so, when he felt the urge, he would gather his wits and kneel in the meadows with a heavy heart. 

He would finger the thin little thing between his forefinger and thumb before pinching tight, cutting off its airflow and decapitating it. It would make him cry sometimes, when he really thought about it, he couldn’t bear to see anything else so beautiful be crushed and perish before his very eyes. 

He stood, taking a deep breath, clutching the single white flower tenderly, as one might grasp a newborn’s finger, he walks the short distance to the graveyard and stands before the headstone, cold and unforgiving. He tries to smile, but it comes out a grimace. 

“He’s in a better place,” he whispers, but where was this so called “better place”? Why couldn’t it be here, with him? Why did he have to go?

“Why did you do it, Frankie?” He breaks down, falling to his knees before the grave. “Why?”

The white flower flutters gently on the freshly packed earth, dirt soiling the pure white hue.


End file.
